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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635371">Daughterhood</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessgurl/pseuds/goddessgurl'>goddessgurl</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>No Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Coming of Age, Fantasy, Gen, High Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 01:21:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24635371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessgurl/pseuds/goddessgurl</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven years ago, when Lecia was five, her father fought a duel for her mother's hand in marriage. That duel killed him. Lecia spent the last decade training in the magical arts for a singular goal: to win the Grand Tournament. The prize? A spell--any spell--cast by the Council of Magi, the most powerful mages in the known world. Lecia plans to have the Council resurrect her father. But in order to win the Tournament, Lecia will have to defeat both one of her father's old friends, along with the man who killed him in the first place.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Daughterhood</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Daughterhood</p>
<p>Soft morning light shone through Lecia’s bedroom window. She sat at her desk below and read the neat runes she’d written onto a scroll. She rolled each phrase, clause, and sentence over in her mind, considering possible synonyms and rearrangements, making sure her language was perfect. If one syllable of the spell was wrong, the palace of words and intent she built while casting it would collapse.</p>
<p>Her plan for the day weighed heavy on her, pushing her to skim words or lines or entire paragraphs. She dug in her mental heels. She couldn’t afford to miss anything.</p>
<p>When she’d read the scroll twice, she rolled it into a tight pillar and slid it into a leather scroll case, which she slipped over her shoulder. She shrugged into her pack, filled with clothes, writing implements, and a day’s worth of food.</p>
<p>Lecia stepped into the kitchen to find her mother blocking the front door.</p>
<p>Concern deepened the woman’s already pronounced wrinkles. “Please, Lecia. Please don’t do this. Don’t return Robert to us.”</p>
<p>Lecia gritted her teeth. She didn’t understand why her mother disapproved, but she wasn’t about to start an argument the day of the tournament. Instead, she drew her mother into her arms and held her. “He loved you enough back then to die for you. He’ll love you the same now.”</p>
<p>Her mother shook her head, squeezed Lecia once, and ducked out of the embrace.</p>
<p>Lecia wanted to look back, wanted to say something. But she pulled open the door, set her eyes on the horizon, and started down the road.</p>
<p>She was off to bring her father back to life.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>“Name?” the fat man asked. He sat behind a wide wooden table and scratched with a quill at a long roll of parchment. Droplets of ink stained his fingertips, but the parchment was tidy.</p>
<p>“Lecia Annas,” she said. Her body ached. She’d walked from her house to the tournament stadium before, but never with a full pack, nor had she stood in line for two hours waiting to reach the entrance. But her mind was focused, and she had enough energy to cast whatever spells she’d need.</p>
<p>The man scribbled her name down, then pointed with the quill and spoke without looking up. “Step in the main gates, take your first right into the contestants’ room. You’re number one-twenty-eight. Wait until your name is called, then follow the other contestants into the ring. Last one standing moves on. You don’t have to kill your opponents.”</p>
<p>Lecia nodded and walked through the open gates of the stadium. Before she turned into the contestants’ room, she looked at the stadium proper. She’d watched both of the previous tournaments, when she’d been six and eleven, but she’d always been high in the stands where the seats were cheaper. Seeing it from the ground level--and as a contestant--was awe-inspiring. Twenty-five mages stood on the packed dirt of the arena, waiting for the signal to fight. The rows of seats were filled with hundreds of faces, all eager to watch the bouts. The smells of sweat, blood, and burned clothing hung in the air.</p>
<p>The contestants’ room was a long arc. From what Lecia could see, it ran along half of the stadium. Benches lined the middle of the room, on which some of the mages sat or rested their packs. A glassless window was carved into the wall, providing a clear view of the stadium. A handful of contestants leaned against the sill, staring at the fight in progress. Lecia found an unoccupied stretch and followed suit.</p>
<p>She knew the tournament proceedings by heart. The first stage was a battle royale--eight bouts with twenty-five contestants each. The eight winners moved on to the one-on-one duels, which would be held the next day. The duels were when contestants displayed their true skills--the first day was a series of long, bloody skirmishes, and luck was sometimes the largest factor. Talented mages sometimes lost to complete novices because they were too distracted to stop a frontal assault. Lecia spent half a year figuring out how to fight twenty-four mages at once, and even then her plan required a complicated series of at least seven spells, all of which had to be timed perfectly.</p>
<p>The current bout was almost over--only six mages were still conscious. Lecia recognized one of them: a tall, soft-looking man with short hair and a trimmed beard. His name was Vertan, and he’d been the runner-up in both of the previous tournaments. She had been impressed by him--his combat style had no holes, and he always seemed to find those in his opponents’.</p>
<p>Vertan extended his hand toward another contestant and said a word in the language of power: “Sleep.” The woman’s eyes closed, and she collapsed onto the packed dirt.</p>
<p>Lecia gripped the sill of the cutout so tightly her nails scratched the pale wood. She’d sensed the warding spells the woman had cast to protect herself from mental attacks, and she’d also sensed Vertan’s spell hitting the wards with such force it shattered them. The amount of raw power that took would have exhausted Lecia, but Vertan didn’t even blink. He just turned to his next closest enemy and repeated the process.</p>
<p>“His power is rather monstrous, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>The voice was familiar, but Lecia couldn’t place it. She turned to look at the speaker and hated herself for forgetting.</p>
<p>His clothes revealed his noble status--he wore a purple tunic with gold brocade and a pair of dark red trousers. Dirt and blood caked his long brown boots.</p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes. “Barrow.”</p>
<p>Barrow tilted his head, then his eyes widened. “Lecia? Little Lecia Annas? My goodness, you’ve grown. I must confess, it’s a bit of a shock to see you here. Are you certain you’re up to the task?”</p>
<p>Barrow was the last person Lecia wanted to talk to. She turned and walked farther down the window.</p>
<p>He followed, his long strides keeping easy pace with her. “Is everything all right?”</p>
<p>She stopped and stared out the window.</p>
<p>Barrow pursed his lips. “In most circles, it’s considered rude to ignore an acquaintance.”</p>
<p>Acquaintance? “Jump off a bridge.”</p>
<p>“Well, that’s a mite aggressive. You know I cared for your mother.”</p>
<p>She’d tried. She walked away, she ignored him, she did her best to keep her anger in check. But he wasn’t giving her a choice. She turned and looked up at him. “You didn’t care about her ten years ago.”</p>
<p>He raised his eyebrows. “You mean the duel? I didn’t even have to accept your father’s challenge. I only dueled him because I wanted to put the matter to rest.”</p>
<p>Lecia jabbed a finger in his face. “You raised the matter in the first place. You went to her parents with a dower.”</p>
<p>“If you wish to blame someone for making the first mistake, your father gave her child and abandoned her. I’m not responsible for falling in love with her while he was off sating his bloodlust as a soldier.”</p>
<p>“He came back.”</p>
<p>“With barely the money to keep her eating, let alone give her a dower and a habitable house. Your grandfather burned that shack after she fled with you.”</p>
<p>“She loved him!”</p>
<p>“Do you really think everyone marries for love?” He shrugged. “Besides, she might have learned to love me. And even if she hadn’t, she would have been fed and taken care of.”</p>
<p>“You couldn’t have made her happy. Not as much as he could have.” Her cheeks were wet.</p>
<p>Barrow smoothed his gaudy tunic. “Perhaps he could have. But he decided to die for her honor rather than live for her happiness.”</p>
<p>The crowd cheered. Lecia looked out the window to see Vertan standing in a field of unconscious bodies. He made an exaggerated bow, then ambled toward the contestants’ room, picking his way over the sleeping figures.</p>
<p>The fat man poked his head through the door. “One-twenty-six to one-fifty, into the arena!”</p>
<p>Lecia made a point of not looking at Barrow as she followed several men out into the stadium. Several more trailed behind her.</p>
<p>Once all twenty-five contestants had entered and spread out, the fat man pressed two fingers into his throat and, with a magically amplified voice, shouted, “Fight!”</p>
<p>The contestants began muttering spells, either to ward themselves or to attack their enemies. Lecia opened her mouth and stretched out her palm, but the words caught in her throat. Her fingers trembled. She tried to focus on her plan, but the only thing she could think of was Barrow. Shivers of anger ran down her spine. She no longer cared about playing a convoluted chess game in order to incapacitate her enemies. Barrow clearly didn’t think her emotion was important. She’d show him it was.</p>
<p>She gathered her fury and shoved it out of her with two words: “Throat seeds!” Her energy dropped a little as she conjured twenty-four seeds, one inside each of her opponents’ throats. The mages choked and gurgled.</p>
<p>“Root, parasite, grow.”</p>
<p>She gasped for breath as the spell left her. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears. The spell faltered, but she focused on the frown on Barrow’s face, the disappointment in his voice, the blood on his shoes.</p>
<p>The seeds buried roots into their hosts’ flesh, anchoring themselves in the mages’ throats. Relief washed over Lecia--the seeds had started draining energy from their hosts instead of her. The growing saplings consumed any fat her enemies had, drawing their skin tight against their bones. As their bodies withered, trees burst through their mouths, eyes, nose, and ears. Screams filled the stadium.</p>
<p>Lecia stood alone in a copse of saplings, each rooted in one of twenty-four crumpled, bloody bodies.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Barrow arched his eyebrows. “Lecia, that was incredibly reckless.”</p>
<p>Lecia stepped aside, letting the next batch of mages pass her into the stadium. She leaned against the window and pulled a burlap bundle from her pack. Inside was a hunk of bread and a wedge of cheese--she took a bite of each. Having a full mouth had other benefits, too: Barrow couldn’t accuse her of being rude again. She wasn’t about to be scolded by a man of his character.</p>
<p>“He’s right,” said a deep voice on the other side of Lecia. Vertan leaned against the window next to her. “That was a brilliant spell, but if any of them had been smarter with their wards, you’d have lost.”</p>
<p>Lecia almost couldn’t believe that Vertan, scourge of the arena, was actually talking to her. She swallowed, coughed, cleared her throat. “They never ward against conjurations. Not in the first stage. They don’t have time.”</p>
<p>Vertan’s mouth curved into a soft smile. He held up a finger. “With sacred space, you can ward against physical attacks and conjurations at the same time.”</p>
<p>“'Sacred space’ takes more energy than ward physical,” Lecia said. “Besides, it stops you from conjuring things near you, too.”</p>
<p>“Yes, but it buys you time, and when your opponents are killing each other, time is all you really need.” Vertan scratched his beard with his left hand and extended his right to shake. “Vertan Dorramund.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I know.” His hand was more calloused than she expected--mages as skilled as Vertan usually protected their hands from the risks of manual labor. “Lecia Annas.”</p>
<p>Vertan’s eyes widened. “Annas? How old are you?”</p>
<p>“Sixteen.”</p>
<p>“Is your mother Helena?”</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“Your father is Robert Marsh, then?”</p>
<p>She frowned and nodded again. How did Vertan know her parents? She’d never met him before today.</p>
<p>Vertan’s eyes crinkled as a wide smile spread across his face. “Pleasure to meet you, Lecia. I’ve heard so much about you. Well, three-year-old you, anyhow.” He chuckled. “I fought with your father in the Kingmaker War. He used to read us the letters your mother sent him.”</p>
<p>Lecia leaned forward and opened her mouth, but she remembered Barrow standing behind her. “Can we take a walk? I want to ask you some things.”</p>
<p>“I’d be happy to.” He looked to Barrow. “Send a wind message when they need us?”</p>
<p>Barrow nodded. “Certainly.”</p>
<p>Vertan stepped aside and gestured to the doors. “Lead the way.”</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>“I thought you had questions,” Vertan said. Lecia looked up. His soft smile told her he wasn’t upset.</p>
<p>She kicked a pebble, sending it skittering down the road. “Why are you relying on Barrow? He’ll just let us miss the victors’ announcement and get disqualified.”</p>
<p>“That isn’t true. Barrow can be an ass, I’ll give you that. But he’s honorable. He wouldn’t want to win without beating us fairly.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t want to win my mother fairly.”</p>
<p>Vertan raised an eyebrow. “Come again?”</p>
<p>“He loved my mother, but she was with my father. They weren’t married, so Barrow went behind their back and gave her parents a dower.” She blinked to clear her eyes. “Then my father challenged him to a duel for her.”</p>
<p>“And Barrow managed to win? Against Robert?”</p>
<p>Lecia bit her lip and kept walking.</p>
<p>It took her a few moments to realize that Vertan had stopped moving. She stopped too and turned back. His mouth was pulled into a frown and his eyebrows were furrowed.</p>
<p>“Lecia, tell me the truth. Did your father die in the duel?”</p>
<p>Lecia nodded. Maybe now Vertan would understand about Barrow.</p>
<p>Vertan closed his eyes. He breathed in, out. He opened his eyes. “I’m not surprised. I hoped he just settled down and forgot to write me, but he always was impulsive.” His cheeks were wet.</p>
<p>“He...” Lecia stepped toward him. “Impulsive? Barrow left him no choice.”</p>
<p>“Robert had a choice. He could have run away with Helena.” Vertan held up a hand. “I know it was an awful choice. I don’t blame him for doing what he did. But they were his actions. Don’t deny him ownership of them just because Barrow behaved like Barrow.”</p>
<p>She curled her hands into fists. It still sounded like Vertan was blaming her father for being murdered. Barrow had killed him in the middle of the street while Lecia watched through the windows. “What would you have had him do? Uproot our entire life to get away from one spoiled nobleman? Live scared that Barrow would track us down and hold my mother to my grandparents’ agreement? It was the only way.”</p>
<p>Vertan extended his hands palms up. “Like I said, I don’t blame him. But I don’t really blame Barrow, either. I agree, it was a terrible thing to do. But I know the man, and even though he’s a bit twisted, he never does anything he thinks is selfish or dishonorable. If he didn’t think he could make Helena happy, he wouldn’t have pursued her. Now, you and me both know he couldn’t have done that in ten lifetimes.”</p>
<p>Lecia relaxed her fists. Vertan wasn’t being callous, even if he gave Barrow far more credit than he deserved. But his demeanor still bothered her. “Why aren’t you angry?”</p>
<p>“Angry?” Vertan raised his eyebrows almost to his receding hairline. “Of course I’m angry. Barrow killed one of my best friends. But I can want to break the man’s legs and still forgive him.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” She didn’t entirely understand, but she could relax knowing that Vertan cared enough to be angry. But her chest still felt tight. She didn’t have the energy to keep talking about her father--not without crying. “I’ve watched you fight,” she said. “You made the finals twice in a row.”</p>
<p>Vertan studied her for a moment, then started walking again. Once he reached her, she matched his pace.</p>
<p>“What did you think of me?” he asked. “Don’t worry--I don’t offend easy.”</p>
<p>There was no danger of that. “You were flawless. I went back through your duels in my mind, and I couldn’t figure out anything you could’ve done better.” Vertan was the most skilled mage she’d ever seen, and he had the raw power to back it up.<br/>He let out a bark of a laugh. “That’s what I was afraid of.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“If there was a hole in my skills, I could just fix it. But I’m too balanced, and I can’t think of anything I could be doing that I’m not.” He sighed and ran a hand over his sparse hair. “I suppose I should call myself lucky that I even survived against those two monsters.”</p>
<p>“They weren’t monsters. They weren’t even as good as you. They were the ones who got lucky.”</p>
<p>He smiled and pursed his lips and shook his head. “Thank you, Lecia. That means a great deal.”</p>
<p>She studied him while they walked. She’d never met anyone so comfortable with himself. Most of the mages Lecia had studied with cared as much about their reputation as their knowledge and skill. Vertan didn’t seem to mind people--or at least, Lecia--knowing he was vulnerable. He made her intensely curious. “What will you do if you win?”</p>
<p>“You mean, with the wish?”</p>
<p>Lecia nodded. The grand prize of the tournament was the ability to make a request of the Council of Magi. The first winner had wished for immortality, so the Council had woven an enchantment to prevent him from aging. The second winner wished for a permanent luck charm.</p>
<p>“I don’t know.”</p>
<p>“You don’t know?” No one didn’t know. Most of the contestants were only there because of their wish. They sought land or love or riches...or to bring back a dead family member.</p>
<p>“No.” He shrugged. “I just enjoy the competition.”</p>
<p>“You don’t even have an inkling?”</p>
<p>“Not a one. I figure I’ll know when I win. Or I won’t, and I’ll wish to keep the poor fed as long as possible.” He looked sideways at her. “What would your wish be?”</p>
<p>Lecia stopped walking. She slipped the scroll case off of her back and handed it to Vertan.</p>
<p>He slid the scroll out and unfurled it. He ran a finger down the parchment as he read, and occasionally stopped to mutter to himself. When he finished, he returned it to the case, which he handed back to her. “You’re going to bring Robert back, aren’t you?” His eyes were wet.</p>
<p>She nodded.</p>
<p>“Don’t.” He resumed walking, taking long, fast strides.</p>
<p>Lecia jogged to catch up with him, then walked quickly to match his pace. “Why not?”</p>
<p>He stopped so abruptly she almost lost her balance. “Your spell is brilliant. It’s better by far than any resurrection spell I’ve seen. I can’t think of a single way it could go wrong. But challenging death is courting disaster. Dozens of mages have tried it, all with spells they were sure would work. Most of the mages died, and the rest brought back things that should have been human but weren’t.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t destroy yourself chasing ghosts.”</p>
<p>She shook her head. “You knew him. How could you tell me not to bring him back?”</p>
<p>“If there was one thing I knew about Robert, it’s that he accepted the consequences of his actions, both good and bad.” Vertan cradled her face in his hands. “He didn’t deserve to die. Barrow shouldn’t have killed him. But Robert started that duel knowing what might happen. He wouldn’t want you to risk your life to bring him back. And anyway, your spell won’t work if its target is at peace.”</p>
<p>“I know that.” There was no way her father wouldn’t want to come back. He would want to rejoin her and her mother and get married so they could have a chance to live as a real family.</p>
<p>A soft wind arose, then twisted into a loud whisper with Barrow’s voice: “Final bout finishing. Return at once.”</p>
<p>They turned back. After a minute, Vertan cleared his throat. “If you won’t be moved, then I wish you luck. If any spell could do it, it’d be yours. Just be certain it’s truly what you want.”</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>The stage two bracket was decided by lottery. There were eight people in all, so Lecia would have to win three times to win the tournament. The bracket was practically perfect--she was opposite Vertan, so she wouldn’t have to fight him until last. Her second opponent would be Barrow, if he won his first duel.</p>
<p>As if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, Barrow sauntered over. “I watched your next opponent in the first stage. I can give you some advice, if you like.”</p>
<p>“Why do you care?”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t have tried to marry your mother if I wasn’t prepared to be your father.”</p>
<p>The floor beneath her feet felt like it could shatter at any moment, and she would fall forever. “You--you knew about me?”</p>
<p>He looked down at her with soft eyes. “Of course. No reasonable man would propose to a woman without knowing if she had children.”</p>
<p>“And you were okay with me? Even though I was a bastard?”</p>
<p>“That was part of why I wanted to marry your mother. I could have officially adopted you. You’d have grown up a noble.”</p>
<p>She thought of the cramped house they’d lived in while her father was fighting in the war, sending money every month. She thought of the hut they’d lived in for the first few years in the capital until her mother found work as a healer. She pressed against her ribs--they were covered with a layer of flesh now, but there were times they hadn’t been. She and her mother had needed someone to be there for them, someone to help.</p>
<p>But that person couldn’t have been Barrow. There was a reason her mother ran instead of marrying him. The person her mother had truly needed, more than any noble, was Lecia’s father. And no matter who had started the duel, Barrow killed him. Barrow thought it was okay to kill him.</p>
<p>“I’ll find my own way,” Lecia said.</p>
<p>Barrow shrugged. “As you wish. But if you get in trouble, simply attack her from two directions at once.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.” She crossed her arms and turned away.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>“Fight!” the announcer said.</p>
<p>Lecia’s opponent, a willowy woman with long brown hair, began whispering in earnest, conjuring wards into place around her. Lecia did the same: “Ward physical, and heat, and cold, and mental, and senses.” She paused for a moment, pondering how much energy to spend, then added, “extend senses.” Her mind stretched, like dough being kneaded into a crust, and then she heard her opponent’s breath, saw individual faces in the stands, felt the slight wind brush against the hairs on her neck.</p>
<p>Lecia’s opponent said, ”air wave blast” and flicked her wrist. A ripple of air rolled from her hand toward Lecia.</p>
<p>“Rebound,” Lecia said. The ripple--and the explosive energy it contained--bounced back at her opponent.</p>
<p>The woman snapped her fingers, and the ripple vanished. Then she whispered, “tree knife.” The air shifted behind her head, and she dodged just in time. A wooden knife sliced a shallow cut in her ear as it flew past her. Leaves were growing from its handle.</p>
<p>“Tree knife,” the woman whispered again, and again Lecia dove out of the way, swearing as she did so. Ward physical couldn’t protect against living things, and her opponent knew that. She’d probably watched Lecia’s stage one fight and adopted the idea. If Lecia didn’t figure something out soon, one of the daggers would get her.</p>
<p>She ducked another dagger and took stock of her options. Conjuring the daggers, especially with so much momentum behind them, had to be taking its toll on her opponent, but Lecia would get stabbed before the woman ran out of energy. She needed to buy enough time to come up with a spell that could slip past the woman’s wards. There had to be something that succeeded where ward physical failed. What would Vertan do?</p>
<p>Then she remembered their first conversation. “Sacred space,” she said, creating a ward that extended barely half an inch from her skin but didn’t cover her nose or mouth. The spell kept everything within its range exactly as it was at the moment of casting. She could still move, but the air between the spell and her skin moved with her. Light and sound could penetrate the ward but that was all. Nothing, living or not, could get in or out. The spell drained Lecia’s energy much faster than most wards, especially when combined with extend senses, but if her opponent kept conjuring the knives, it would turn into a race to see who could maintain their spells the longest. Lecia could win that race.</p>
<p>Another knife appeared a foot from Lecia’s forehead. She twisted to avoid both it and the second knife her opponent conjured behind her, but a third grazed her side, stopped only by her ward. She dodged knives four, five, and six, and a seventh bounced off the ward on her shoulder. Her heart raced, and her opponent took labored breaths.</p>
<p>As Lecia dodged, she went over scenarios in her head. She could try the seed trick again, but her opponent had likely prepared for that. She could try a wide variety of conjurations or energy attacks, but if the woman had warded against them, Lecia would be wasting the precious energy she needed to win the battle of attrition. But the longer she spent wearing the both of them down, the greater the chance her opponent would come up with some way around sacred space.</p>
<p>A knife struck Lecia flat in the back. Sacred space absorbed the impact, but the drain on Lecia’s energy made her dizzy. Despite her opponent’s exhaustion, the woman was getting more focused, better at aiming the knives. If this kept up, Lecia might run out of energy first, and she still hadn’t come up with a plan.</p>
<p>With a sigh, Lecia gave in to the inevitable. “Oil-burning stone,” she said, then after a moment, “lightning.” A fist-sized rock appeared, covered in burning oil and hurtling toward her opponent’s face.</p>
<p>The woman raised her hand. “Quench.” Water splashed the stone, but the fire continued to burn. “Rebound,” she said, and the stone bounced off of an invisible barrier.</p>
<p>Just as the woman deflected the stone, Lecia’s lightning bolt struck her dead-on. The flash nearly blinded Lecia. Her opponent’s wards absorbed part of the lightning, but then they shattered. When Lecia’s vision settled, her opponent was crumpled on the ground. Wisps of acrid smoke curled up from her singed clothes.</p>
<p>Lecia released her wards and extend senses and staggered over. Kneeling down, she pressed a hand against the woman’s neck, feeling for a heartbeat. Relief poured over her when she found one.</p>
<p>It took all of Lecia’s strength to stand and walk out of the arena.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Barrow grinned as Lecia entered the contestants’ room. She trudged past him without a word.</p>
<p>Vertan’s smile stretched the entire width of his face. He took her small hands in his broad ones. “That was marvelous. Arua was a fierce competitor. I’m so proud of you.”</p>
<p>Her cheeks grew warm. “I had help.” She would have lost without sacred space.</p>
<p>“Yes, Barrow mentioned he told you how to strike the final blow. But why didn’t you do it sooner?”</p>
<p>“She wanted to prove she didn’t need my assistance,” Barrow said from behind her. “Don’t worry--I took no offense. It’s natural you would be suspicious of me after my altercation with Robert. I hope that now you know I genuinely wanted you to succeed.”</p>
<p>She didn’t know what she knew. Barrow had to have some ulterior motive, didn’t he? But she couldn’t think of one. Either way, she wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. “I meant sacred space,” she said. “I couldn’t have won without it.”</p>
<p>Vertan shrugged. “I just reminded you the spell existed. You were the one who used it.”</p>
<p>“And use it you did,” Barrow said. “I don’t look forward to fighting you tomorrow.” But his smug half-smile suggested he was sure he’d win.</p>
<p>Lecia opened her mouth, but she was cut off by the announcer calling for the next bout.</p>
<p>Vertan chuckled. “You’ll have to win this one first,” he said, and clapped Barrow on the shoulder. “Go get him.”</p>
<p>Barrow pursed his lips, shrugged off Vertan’s hand, and followed his opponent into the stadium. The lottery had paired Barrow against a tall, burly man who Lecia thought she remembered making a deep run during the last tournament. The man’s tight shirt and short trousers, both mud-stained, contrasted with Barrow’s clean finery.</p>
<p>“Fight!”</p>
<p>The two men wasted no time casting their wards. Barrow’s were longer and more detailed, but he whispered them, so Lecia couldn’t hear specifics. His opponent’s wards were simple and sparse--the man was probably choosing to save his energy for the fight.</p>
<p>Barrow’s opponent extended his hand. “Quicksand.” Barrow began to sink into the ground beneath his feet, and Lecia’s memory slid into place: his opponent was named Mokk, and he specialized in earth magic.</p>
<p>Barrow whispered a long spell, almost an entire sentence. He stopped sinking, and Mokk started.</p>
<p>Mokk looked down at his feet, which had already vanished beneath the ground. He flicked his hand without speaking. He’d likely made the natural assumption--that Barrow had cast a spell to reverse the quicksand--and canceled his own spell. Mokk continued to sink, but Barrow began to rise into the air atop a growing mound of earth.</p>
<p>Unsure of her vision, Lecia blinked, but the scene remained the same: Barrow being lifted up by a pile of dirt and Mokk sinking almost waist-deep into the ground. And then, in a flash of understanding, Lecia realized what Barrow’s spell had done. It was simple and brilliant--Barrow hadn’t interacted with Mokk’s spell at all. Instead, he’d simply cast a spell to pull the dirt underneath Mokk’s feet toward himself. Mokk sank, and the dirt that used to be under him kept Barrow from sinking deeper. When Mokk canceled his own spell, Barrow’s spell had continued to make Mokk sink, while the dirt piling under Barrow had created the mound. Barrow had predicted that Mokk’s thoughts would go to a counterspell and bought himself a few more seconds to bury Mokk in the earth.</p>
<p>Lecia couldn’t hear Barrow’s next spell, but she didn’t need to. A ball of crackling fire erupted from his hand. Mokk, occupied by countering Barrow’s first spell, paid the fireball no mind--he likely assumed his wards would protect him. They did, but when the fire dissipated, the dirt around him had solidified into a hard, clay-like material that held him fast.</p>
<p>Mokk squirmed, but his legs were trapped. His physical ward had kept a slim border between him and the clay, giving him a quarter of an inch on either side. If he dispelled the ward, he could wriggle out of his prison, but that would leave him vulnerable to an attack from Barrow. If he stayed put and cast a different spell to free himself, that might give Barrow time to find a way past his wards anyway. Keeping his ward intact was far less risky, and if Mokk was quick enough, everything would be all right.</p>
<p>Mokk decided to dispel his ward.</p>
<p>As Mokk shimmied out of the clay cast, Barrow whispered a spell and flicked his wrist. Mokk halted, gasped for air, threw his hands up around his throat. Then his eyes bulged and he slumped back into the clay.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>“He always was a brilliant one,” Vertan said as Barrow strolled toward the contestants’ room. Attendants ran toward Mokk, who stirred even before they reached him.</p>
<p>Lecia shook her head. “Did he plan that entire sequence so Mokk would drop his ward?”</p>
<p>Vertan shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me.” He gave her an impassive stare. “I don’t envy you tomorrow.”</p>
<p>Lecia did envy herself. She was nervous, but also excited to finally confront the man. An image of Barrow’s corpse filled her mind: the blood drained out of it, the skin even paler than usual.</p>
<p>As Barrow stepped inside the contestants’ room, Vertan serenaded him with exaggerated applause. “Fantastic. You were as careful and convoluted as ever.”</p>
<p>Barrow grinned. “You won’t be calling it convoluted after the finals, old man.”</p>
<p>“Old?” Vertan clutched his chest in mock outrage. “I’m hardly forty!”</p>
<p>“That’s still older than thirty-six,” Barrow said with a wink.</p>
<p>“I suppose.” Vertan’s face slackened. “Although you won’t be the one to face me in the finals.”</p>
<p>Barrow’s gaze flicked to Lecia. He arched an eyebrow. “The girl? My apologies, Lecia, but I doubt you’ll be able to defeat me with your level of experience.”</p>
<p>Lecia’s anger wanted to be smug, to tell Barrow that for the past eleven years of her life she’d only thought about two things: the spell to bring her father back and the skills she’d need to win the tournament. She likely had as much experience with combat magic as Barrow did.</p>
<p>Her better judgment prevailed. Her anger could triumph tomorrow if she stayed silent today. So she just said, “I’ll find a way.”</p>
<p>“Well,” Barrow said, “I hope we make a contest of it. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a dinner engagement.” He turned and walked away.</p>
<p>Vertan nudged Lecia with an elbow. “Five ducats says he falls asleep in the carriage.”</p>
<p>Lecia looked up at Vertan. “Why?”</p>
<p>“He hides it well, but that bout took a lot out of him. From what I’ve seen, his energy reserves are quite limited.”</p>
<p>“So you weren’t joking about me beating him?”</p>
<p>“Not at all.” He smiled softly. “You may not realize how skilled you are, or how much power your anger gives you. And you defeated Arua, who was almost as clever as Barrow. As long as you’re careful, a smart man, which I manage to be once in a while, would bet on you.” Vertan shook his head. “I don’t approve of your plan to kill him, but you clearly think it’s something you have to do.”</p>
<p>“It’s justice.”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Vertan said with a frown. “But don’t confuse justice with righteousness.”</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>“Sleep,” Vertan said, but his opponent remained awake and focused. “Mute. Blind. Deafen. Flash. Vacuum. Lightning. Throat seeds. Canyon. Fireball.”</p>
<p>The first three spells slipped off of the thin man’s wards. When flash created a burst of light, he raised his arms to shield himself. After vacuum, he gasped and clutched his chest. The remaining spells had no effect, but by the time Vertan finished casting them, his opponent’s face had turned blue. The man toppled to the ground.</p>
<p>Vertan jogged over and knelt next to him. “He’s alive,” he called to the approaching attendants, then ambled back toward Lecia and Barrow.</p>
<p>“Showboater,” Barrow said. “He could give his bouts genuine thought, but instead he empties the drawers at his opponents and hopes one of his spells catches.”</p>
<p>“Has it ever not?”</p>
<p>“To my knowledge, only twice. But he seems to have improved since then.” Barrow shook his head. “I doubt I’ll be able to win unscathed.”</p>
<p>Lecia stayed silent. She wasn’t planning to let Barrow fight Vertan at all.</p>
<p>Vertan stepped inside and leaned against the wall. His shoulders rolled as he took heavy breaths. “That took more energy than I expected.”</p>
<p>Barrow rolled his eyes. “That’s because you have no finesse. And you persist in casting spells against which you know full well your opponents ward themselves. No mage forgets to cast ward physical or ward heat or ward senses.”</p>
<p>“The one time they do,” Vertan said with a smug smile, “I’ll catch it.”</p>
<p>“I might remind you,” Barrow said, “you’re losing that contest zero points versus two.” His grin matched Vertan’s.</p>
<p>Vertan shrugged. “I just need to win one final.”</p>
<p>“And then what?” Barrow asked. “You’ll wish for world peace? Oh, or perhaps to end poverty?”</p>
<p>Those seemed perfectly defensible to Lecia. “What would you wish for?” she asked Barrow.</p>
<p>His face fell from amused to morose, as if someone had snuffed a lantern behind his eyes. When he spoke, his words were soft and halting. “I would wish to never have accepted Robert’s challenge.”</p>
<p>“You...” Her head was fuzzy. None of her thoughts connected with each other. She turned away and leaned against the wooden wall.</p>
<p>The announcer cleared his magically amplified throat. “We will now begin the second semifinal match.”</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Vertan caught her on her way to the door. “Don’t kill him.”</p>
<p>“What?” She barely heard him. Why would Barrow want not to have accepted the duel? Did he regret killing her father? Or did he think that he might have won her mother over had he not killed Robert?</p>
<p>“I know you hate Barrow. I’m not telling you to like him. You aren’t responsible for your emotions. Let yourself be angry at him. But you are responsible for your actions. No matter how much anger and hate you have for him, killing him will stay with you <br/>forever.”</p>
<p>“He killed my father.”</p>
<p>Vertan folded his arms. “You’ve killed some fathers, too.”</p>
<p>“What? I haven’t...oh.” The first round. “Oh god.”</p>
<p>“You did what you felt you needed to.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Just don’t kill Barrow because he did the same.”</p>
<p>“I...” She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She turned and stepped through the open door to join Barrow in the arena.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Lecia and Barrow threw up their wards--Lecia opting for sacred space and extend senses as ways of insulating herself against Barrow’s trickery--and then they circled each other. Every step Lecia took felt slow and cumbersome. She wanted to abandon magic and charge Barrow, to punch and kick and bite and scratch, to start the fight and end this interminable waiting. But she wasn’t going to make the first move and run into whatever trap he had for her.</p>
<p>So, instead, she talked to him. “What did you mean about your wish?”</p>
<p>His eyebrows rose. He stopped circling for a moment, then resumed. “Just what I said. I regret accepting Robert’s challenge, and I would reverse it if I could.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>He tilted his head like the answer was obvious. “It ended poorly for everyone. I lost Helena, and you and Helena lost Robert.”</p>
<p>Lecia’s fingernails dug into her palms. “We didn’t lose Robert,” she said. “You took him from us. And you didn’t lose my mother, either. She was never yours to begin with.”</p>
<p>“Robert took himself from you by challenging me to that duel in the first place.” He stopped pacing for good, standing straight-backed. “Tell me--wouldn’t you rather have grown up in a stable home with a devoted stepfather, a mother who had time for you, and a father who was still alive?”</p>
<p>Lecia paused mid-stride. Her breath was ragged. Droplets of blood dripped from her fists. “I would rather have grown up with both of my parents happy! Shift!”</p>
<p>Lecia was standing ten yards in front of Barrow, facing him. The next moment, she stood a yard behind him--within striking distance. “Strength,” she said, then “hard knuckles.” With a creaking sound, the bones swelled and stiffened underneath the skin of her hands, making her wince.</p>
<p>Barrow turned, mouth open to defend himself, but he was too slow. Lecia slammed her fist into his temple.</p>
<p>He opened his mouth again. She punched him in the chest. Bone cracked beneath her fist.</p>
<p>Barrow coughed blood and dropped to his knees, then to all fours. Lecia’s chest and shoulders heaved as she stared down at him.</p>
<p>He looked up at her with wet eyes. “Please don’t--hkk-- please don’t kill me.”</p>
<p>Her father would never have been pathetic enough to beg for his life. He would never have humiliated himself in front of his enemy, especially if his enemy had taken something dear from him. His pride would never have allowed it.</p>
<p>But she’d already killed too many people.</p>
<p>Lecia released her spells.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>She’d barely stepped through the door when Vertan wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m proud of you,” he said. “You did the right thing.”</p>
<p>She took a gasping breath. “Don’t be,” she said into his chest.</p>
<p>He let her go and rested his hands on her shoulders. “What?”</p>
<p>“Don’t be proud of me.” She looked down. Her shoes had spots of Barrow’s blood on them. “I just didn’t want to make the same mistake he made.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t know them at the same time,” Vertan said slowly, “but I think Barrow and Robert were more alike than either of them would have admitted.”</p>
<p>“How?”</p>
<p>“They’re both driven first by honor. It means different things to them, but they have strong senses of right and wrong. Barrow’s honor says that when someone accepts a duel, they know they might die, so killing them isn’t wrong. Your father’s honor said that risking his life to defend his family was right.”</p>
<p>Lecia lifted her head to look at him. Tears dripped from her chin. Everything felt so heavy. She’d almost killed the man who’d killed her father. She was about to fight Vertan, who, oddly enough, was acting more like a father than her actual father had. And both her life and her father’s revolved on the upcoming duel. She’d been preparing for the finals of this tournament for so long, and now it was here, she didn’t want to do anything but lie down and cry herself arid.</p>
<p>An idea blossomed in her mind. She sniffed and wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “You don’t know what your wish will be, right? You just want to win?”</p>
<p>He raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. Why?”</p>
<p>“What if I conceded to you and you used your wish to bring my father back?” She strode to her pack and handed him the scroll case. “That way we both get what we want.”</p>
<p>Vertan frowned, then shook his head. Lecia’s chest tightened.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “My answer is no.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“My dream is to win fairly. I can’t reach that goal if I rig the most important match.” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I really am, but if you want to bring Robert back, you’ll have to defeat me tomorrow.”</p>
<p>She looked away again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t want either of us to get hurt.” He placed a finger underneath her chin and lifted her face so their eyes met. “No matter how difficult the fighting gets, I promise I will do my absolute best to keep from harming you.”</p>
<p>“I’ll do the same.” She sighed. “We have to fight, don’t we?”</p>
<p>He nodded. “We do.”</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>The sun glared bright above the arena, making Lecia blink. Bags hung heavy under her eyes. Her clothes were dirty and rumpled. Ink marks stained her fingers. It had taken her the entire night to come up with a plan, and she still wasn’t happy with it.</p>
<p>“Fight!”</p>
<p>Vertan chanted a string of typical wards, enunciating every syllable. Lecia spoke as quickly and quietly as she dared--she had far more to say, and she didn’t want Vertan to know how extensive she was making her wards:</p>
<p>“Sacred space. Ward mental, and senses, and heat, and cold, and electric. Extend senses. Underground roots. Still air.”</p>
<p>Vertan cleared his throat, then started his usual string of spells: “Sleep. Mute. Blind. Deafen. Flash. Bang. Vacuum.”</p>
<p>Her mental and sensory wards protected her from the first four, which Vertan released right after they met her wards. Her wards against sound and light protected her from the next two. Then, still air began siphoning her energy as Vertan’s vacuum spell tried to suck the air away from her.</p>
<p>Vertan frowned and poured more energy into his spell, forcing Lecia to bolster her ward. They fought for almost a full minute. Would Vertan tap them both with the one spell, or would he abandon it for other tactics once Lecia proved she could meet him push for push? It seemed that whoever gave up first would be giving a concession of sorts. If Lecia dispelled her ward and found a more efficient way to counter vacuum, she would be admitting that Vertan could bully her with his massive stamina. If Vertan switched attacks, he would be admitting that Lecia could keep pace with him.</p>
<p>Vertan gave in first. He broke off his spell and resumed his list of attacks: “Lightning. Fireball. Canyon.” Vertan let Lecia’s wards absorb the first two, but the third locked them into a second battle of wills--Vertan fed energy to the spell pulling the ground apart and Lecia fed energy to the roots she’d conjured to hold it together. Lecia’s task was more complicated, as she had not only to strengthen the roots but also to heal any wounds they suffered.</p>
<p>Vertan’s spell, however, required more energy, as he had to pull apart the ground itself. He canceled the spell after barely ten seconds had passed.</p>
<p>“Throat seeds,” Vertan said, and their wills met for a third time, albeit briefly--once Vertan realized Lecia had warded against the spell, he canceled it.</p>
<p>They stood, slouched and panting. Vertan rubbed his chin and mouthed soundless, magicless words. He was clearly trying to devise a new plan of attack. Lecia was content to let him. She was confident in her wards, and if he kept bouncing spells off of them, he’d be playing into her plan of wearing him down. Vertan’s energy reserves were large, but Lecia lacked Barrow’s skill at exploiting tiny mistakes, so this was the only axis she could fight on. She had to let Vertan execute his strategy and make him spend more energy than her. She would survive. She had to survive--for her father. That would keep her going even after Vertan tired. Besides, if she got him to wear himself down, she might not have to hurt him.</p>
<p>“Quicksand,” Vertan said, but Lecia simply thickened the roots underneath her. She only sank a foot or so before she came to rest on a solid foothold.</p>
<p>“Fireball,” Vertan said. Lecia didn’t try to counter it. Although the fire turned her vision red, her wards absorbed the heat.</p>
<p>But Lecia wasn’t Vertan’s objective. Too late, she realized he was aiming for the ground around her. The fire baked the sand he’d sucked her into, turning it into hard clay. She was trapped up to her knees, just like Mokk had been. She cursed herself for falling for the same trick.</p>
<p>She took the slowest, steadiest breath she could. Mokk had panicked and died. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake. But she did need a plan, because Vertan would be spending every second trying to find a way around her wards. Still, his brow was sweaty and his breathing was hard. The fireball had to have taken a lot out of him.</p>
<p>Not that her energy levels were much higher. Maintaining her wards was tiring, especially given the strength of the fireball. She swept her sleeve along her forehead. Could she perhaps drain energy back from the roots? Although she’d never perfected the technique, she’d toyed with the idea over the years. After all, energy could be transferred between living things, provided they gave consent or weren’t sentient in the first place.</p>
<p>Or provided they were already accessing the energy.</p>
<p>She immediately dismissed the idea. It was too risky. True, catching Vertan in the middle of a spell wouldn’t be particularly difficult, but controlling how much she siphoned would be. As far as she could tell, Vertan didn’t measure out his spells before casting them like Lecia and Barrow did. He opened his entire being to each spell he cast, allowing it to draw as much energy as it needed. That meant he was adept at stopping the flow when necessary, but also that if Lecia tried to siphon his energy, she’d likely get almost as much as he was pouring into his spell. Given that she didn’t know exactly how much he had left, she could end up killing him.</p>
<p>Or she could take just enough to end the fight without hurting anyone. She had to try something, and she was running out of time. The best option was to ready the spell and keep it in reserve for if she had no other choice. She whispered a series of magical phrases--miniature spells in their own right--that fit together into a larger, more complicated enchantment. She left the magic hanging, partially assembled, in her mind. All she needed was a single trigger word for the spell to connect and fire.<br/>Then it was time to  get free before Vertan found a hole in her wards. She reached her mind down to the roots beneath her and said, “Instant growth.”</p>
<p>The roots shifted under her feet, and then--drawing streams of energy from the surrounding soil and a thin trickle from her--they surged upward. A tree trunk burst through the clay, cracking it and releasing her legs. She wrapped an arm around a branch and let it lift her into the air. Once the tree was fully grown, she canceled the spell and dropped to the even ground.</p>
<p>Her heart battered her ribcage. Her lungs held half as much air, and her limbs weighed twice as much. She canceled extend senses, which only gave her a small reprieve.</p>
<p>Vertan was sure to strike again soon--if Lecia wanted to see her father again, she needed to go on the offense.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath. “Flashbang, pull earth, slab.” The air in front of Vertan’s face exploded with light and sound. He didn’t react, but the spell was a distraction anyway. The earth under his feet swept toward her, jerking his legs forward, dumping him onto his back with a thud. A large stone slab appeared above his legs and dropped toward them until his wards halted it half a foot above his flesh. He furrowed his brow and bared his teeth.</p>
<p>She slumped back against the tree and slid down its trunk until her bottom touched the dirt. Those three spells had taken the rest of her energy. Her wards were gone, and she could barely stay awake. Everything seemed at once close and unreachable: the blurred faces in the stands above her; the tree behind her; Vertan muttering a spell that shoved the rock off of him, where it thudded harmlessly into the dirt.</p>
<p>She bit the knuckle of her index finger until she broke skin. Pain sliced its way through her mind.</p>
<p>Vertan rolled to his feet.</p>
<p>She inhaled three quick breaths through her nose, then exhaled a long breath through her mouth.</p>
<p>Vertan staggered toward her.</p>
<p>She slapped both her cheeks.</p>
<p>Vertan raised his arm.</p>
<p>She finished the siphon.</p>
<p>The amount of energy Vertan had left was less than she’d anticipated--barely enough to stay standing--yet the spell he was casting would use every scrap of it. She could sense his intent: to be lying on his back, fighting to stay conscious, staring up at the cloudless sky, knowing he’d finally won. She could also sense a tiny hesitation in his spell, as if he wouldn’t actually mind if it missed. He wanted to win more than anything, but if he had to lose again, he wouldn’t mind losing to her.</p>
<p>Then a jolt of energy ran up her spine. Her vision cleared, her mind sharpened, her body moved again.</p>
<p>She reached out to sever the connection with Vertan, but it was already gone. His limp body was face-down in the dirt.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>Six-year-old Lecia scampered into the bedroom she shared with her parents. “Mama? Mister Barrow brought flowers again.”</p>
<p>Lecia’s mother stiffened at her writing desk, then turned to Lecia and forced a smile. “Thank you, Lecia. Does your father know Barrow is here?”</p>
<p>Lecia nodded. “I saw Papa first, so I told him. He went to say hello.”</p>
<p>The smile disappeared, replaced by pursed lips. “I should join them.” She stood and hurried out of the room.</p>
<p>Lecia peered down the hall at the front door, where Barrow and her father were talking. Their faces were twisted and they were waving their hands. Loose flower petals sprinkled the floor. When her mother got close, her father stepped between her and Barrow.</p>
<p>The voices were too low to hear, so she crept closer, sneaking between the patches of shadow cast by the setting sun. Eventually, she could make out what they were saying, and it didn’t seem like they’d seen her.</p>
<p>“For the last time,” her father said, “she doesn’t love you. Go away.”</p>
<p>“She doesn’t have to love me,” Barrow said. “I love her, which means I’ll never do wrong by her. Her family will be taken care of.” He looked around at the old, partly rotting boards of their house, then at Lecia’s mother. “I’ll take care of you and Lecia. I can adopt her, give her a life of opportunity. Don’t you want that for your daughter?”</p>
<p>Lecia’s mother opened her mouth, but Lecia’s father cut her off. “She doesn’t want anything from you. She loves me. We have a child together, a child who already has a father.”</p>
<p>Lecia’s chest filled with pride. Her father was defending her, fighting for her family.</p>
<p>“Lecia has a father?” Barrow raised his eyebrows. “That is news, considering you only returned from the war a fortnight ago. How many birthdays have you celebrated? How many meals have you cooked?” He looked past Lecia’s father to her mother, who was wringing her hands. “Helena? What say you?”</p>
<p>Lecia’s father stepped forward and jabbed a finger in Barrow’s face. “No. She says no. So you have two choices. Either you renounce your claim and leave us be, or...or you and I duel. Right now, out in the street. If you lose, we never see you again.”</p>
<p>Barrow pushed his arm away. “A duel? One versus one, death or surrender, winner take all?” He frowned and stroked his goatee. “Very well. I agree. I’ll meet you outside in five minutes.” Setting the flowers on the table, he turned and strode out.</p>
<p>Lecia’s mother slapped her father across the face. “You ungrateful, reckless, irresponsible maniac!”</p>
<p>His eyes widened in shock. His hand flew up to his cheek.</p>
<p>“This is exactly why I wanted to talk to Barrow on my own,” she said. “Maybe if you had let me get a word in, we could have sent him away without any problems. But now you’re going to get yourself killed, either by Barrow or by the courts for killing a nobleman.” She drew her sleeve across her eyes.</p>
<p>“Even if you’d sent him away, he would have come back next week with your parents’ blessing, and the week after with the local cleric’s. This way, I’ll have you and his coach driver to bear witness. I’ll defeat him, and he’ll never be able to bother us again.”</p>
<p>He turned to leave, but she gripped his sleeve. “Please. I beg you, back out now. We can run away, start a new life somewhere he can’t find us. Don’t get yourself killed just when we got you back.”</p>
<p>“I’m no coward.” He pulled from her grasp and strode out into the twilight.</p>
<p>#</p>
<p>“Miss Annas,” the announcer said, “the Council is ready for you.”</p>
<p>Lecia held up her left hand. Her right clutched a quill, with which she scratched out and rewrote portions of her resurrection spell. It only took her another minute to finish. “Dry,” she said, then rolled up the scroll and tied it with twine.</p>
<p>The announcer tugged at the hem of his shirt. “It’s not good to keep the Council of Magi waiting.”</p>
<p>Lecia nodded and stood. He led her back into the arena, which had been restored to its former state of smooth dirt. Lecia’s tree was gone, as was the hole from the quicksand.</p>
<p>The nine red-robed mages of the Council of Magi stood in a small semi-circle. Some were men, some women, and one was neither, but all were old, with wrinkled faces and hair in varying shades of gray and white.</p>
<p>The woman in the center cleared her throat and, with a magically amplified voice, said, “My name is Solesta. Have you chosen your reward?”</p>
<p>Lecia strode up to Solesta--who was taller than her by a head--and held out the scroll. The woman took it and undid the twine. When she finished reading, she held it out to the mage on her left. The rest of the council gathered around to read it.</p>
<p>Solesta’s deep blue eyes stared into Lecia’s brown ones. “Who would you like to resurrect?”</p>
<p>Lecia took a deep breath. “Vertan Dorramund.”</p>
<p>A murmur swept the crowd. Solesta arched a wispy eyebrow. “Your opponent in the final round?”</p>
<p>Lecia nodded.</p>
<p>“Are you certain?”</p>
<p>She thought about her father, about Barrow, about Vertan. About all the men who had shaped her life, however briefly. “I first came here to resurrect my father. But circumstances change. I can say without reservation that Vertan has been the kindest, most authentic man I’ve known, and the world suffers without him.”</p>
<p>“Very well.” Solesta turned back to the rest of the council. “Does the spell meet your approval?”</p>
<p>Most of them nodded. One, a particularly old man leaning on a staff, said, “It is a work of art. I would have you in my employ after it is concluded, young madam.”</p>
<p>“Excellent,” Solesta said. “Retrieve the body,” she told the announcer, who scuttled off. Then, to the Council: “Let us begin.” </p>
<p>She snapped her fingers, and a simple oak table appeared in front of her, about eight feet on each side. The Council gathered into a loose circle around it. The old man unfurled the scroll so all could read it, and they each began to chant a different part of the spell, reciting the syllables quickly and clearly.</p>
<p>As the council worked, thin strands of light stretched outward from their fingers, forming lattices and, eventually, as each mage’s lattice connected to those adjacent, a gigantic web of light. There was a hole in the web in front of Solesta, who did not connect her lattice to the rest of the Council’s.</p>
<p>The magic hung in the air for several seconds, until the announcer stepped into the ring and pointed toward the circle. Two healers followed him out, carrying a large sling between them. Lecia craned her neck, but she couldn’t catch a glimpse of Vertan’s face.</p>
<p>The healers slipped through the gap Solesta held open and lowered the body onto the table next to the scroll. As they ducked out of the web of light, Solesta finally joined her lattice to those of her neighbors, creating a sparkling dome that stretched over Vertan’s body.</p>
<p>The Council chanted louder, and the dome shrank on either side until it was roughly the same dimensions as the body. In unison, the Council took a step inward, then another, then another, each pace bringing the dome closer to Vertan. Each mage extended a hand, pushing the dome inward and shaping it so it lay tight against Vertan’s skin.</p>
<p>As the Council recited the spell’s final words, a flash of light emanated from the center of the table, and Lecia knew it had worked.</p>
<p>The wall of red robes parted to reveal Vertan, sitting upright and rubbing his temples. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open. His hair was now a bright silver.</p>
<p>His gaze found Lecia. For a moment, shock filled his face. Then he smiled and extended his arms.</p>
<p>END</p>
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